hey rhys
i can't believe it's been three years since you died - and if i can't believe it you can certainly bet on the fact that others will not believe it also - and certainly not want to believe it, if the truth is more plainly spoken
i've talked about you a bit in the last few weeks - there's been an odd set of coincidences that have lead to this
last week i had to go and visit a man who was on his final journey too, and i was privileged enough to see him for the last four or five of his good days and on one of those last days that i went to visit him and his wife i walked in, listened for a second or two and announced "that's vinyl - i'd know the quality of that sound anywhere. miles davis, too, if i'm not mistaken, 'summertime' from the 'porgy and bess' soundtrack, no?"
this won me some super big props on that day, and it segued naturally into how i knew this
so i told the story about you, and your dad, the common love of music and aural exploration you both shared and also 'fessed up about the time that i visited your house and thought that ed's giant speakers were amazingly big heaters
after the laughter died down the universe in all it's karmic circularity revealed that this man in fact was a classmate and peer of your dad's
last year i had to go to one of our old flats for work, and i was so remarkably restrained in not asking to look around - to go and see the hot water cupboard where spike spent 2 days and nights only to emerge soporific on heat and so dehydrated he drank a whole bowl of water without stopping
i satisfied myself with the living room because it was the same as i remembered it, and that reinforced my belief in my good will hunting memory - that the way i remember things is the way they were
and this picture, this one of you and me from 1995 outside linda and andy's flat on cargill street - well, that's how i remember us
and that's how we were, for such a short time in this weird game of life that i can't quite seem to learn the rules to
i remember you today
xxxx Cath
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